


Adjustment Period

by Duck_Life



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: 1990s, Awkward Dates, Fish out of Water, Gay Male Character, Gen, Stargazing, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 08:46:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16636694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Ororo takes Bishop out on a date. It doesn't exactly go spectacularly.





	Adjustment Period

Ororo drives. She snags the keys to one of the cars in the garage— a convertible—  and she and Bishop go a couple miles out of Salem Center to a nice Italian restaurant. During the 20 minute wait, she watches Bishop admire the artwork in the waiting area, occasionally commenting on his interpretations or answering his questions about Tuscany and olive oil and wine. 

When the hostess calls, “Munroe, party of two,” Ororo follows her to a cozy table by the window, Bishop trailing behind her. They’re given two menus and their water goblets are filled. 

“This place is magnificent,” Bishop says, looking around the restaurant. There are more paintings back here, artists’ renderings of gondolas and cheeses and beautiful women. 

“This isn’t your first restaurant, is it?” Ororo asks, suddenly wondering if she should have picked somewhere less overwhelming. “I thought Bobby and the others—”

“Oh, they’ve taken me to other places to eat,” he explains. “Harry’s Hideaway. Coffee A-Go-Go. McDonald’s. Never anywhere so… exquisite.” 

Ororo smiles at him across the table, smiles at his word choices,  _ magnificent _ ,  _ exquisite _ . He’s not like anyone else she’s ever met, and she’s met plenty of strange and colorful characters. It’s nice to be out on a date again. She’s been in a rut ever since Forge rescinded his proposal and left. 

They order sodas— Coca-Cola for her, Dr. Pepper for him— and browse the menus. 

Ororo decides on chicken parmesan and Bishop, overwhelmed by all the options, asks for the same. “I must admit, I like introducing you to things,” Ororo says over the rim of her glass. “It’s nice to see your face light up when you try new things. You’re going to love this chicken parm.” 

When the food comes, Bishop doesn’t talk much, just focuses wholly on tucking into his dinner. Even though they’re wearing nice clothes and out at a decent restaurant, he still eats the way she’s seen him eat at the mansion, one arm curled around the plate, hunched over, shoveling food into his mouth like it might get taken from him at any moment. 

Ororo eats more slowly, taking care to cut her food and take frequent sips of her Coke, hoping that maybe she can lead by example. Bishop eventually manages to slow down and actually enjoy his dinner, but he doesn’t move his arm from its protective position around his food. 

When the check comes, Ororo grabs for it. She asked him out, after all, and she’s a lady of fine repute. (Also, no one’s managed to convince Bishop why he needs to carry a credit card yet.) The waitress brings back the bill with a handful of chocolate mints on top. Ororo thanks her, tips generously and then leaves with Bishop behind her. 

“Are we going back to the mansion?” he asks once they’re back in the car. 

Ororo glances at him sideways and then turns the radio up a little, changes stations until she settles on something playing Marvin Gaye. “I thought we might drive for a bit. Is that alright?”

“Sure,” Bishop says, buckling. “There’s still so much of this area I haven’t seen. When I was a kid, I barely left the city.” 

“Then I’ll take you someplace extra special,” Ororo promises. 

* * *

“Someplace extra special” turns out to be a peak a few miles north. In the daytime it’s a park with walking and biking trails, but at night it’s where young couples come to get some alone time. Their car isn’t even the only one up there tonight. Ororo puts it in park and unbuckles, getting comfortable in her seat. 

“I love the X-Men,” she says, “but it’s nice to get away from all those telepaths and people with super hearing, every once in awhile.” 

Bishop nods in agreement. “I suppose.” 

They chitchat for a few moments, about nothing and everything, and then Ororo finally leans over the center console and kisses him, letting her tension and stress melt away as she presses her mouth against Bishop’s.

Almost immediately, it becomes apparent to her that Bishop isn’t enjoying the contact. He freezes up in the passenger’s seat, obviously unsure of what to do with his hands, reluctant to push her away. Ororo stops, pulls away, leans back into the driver’s seat so she can give him some space. “I apologize,” she says, ducking her head.

“No, it,” he says, stumbling over his words. “Not your fault.”

“I have been told,” Ororo says, “that I can be too forward. I’m sorry.”

Bishop fidgets in the seat. He’s a big man, arms roped with muscle, but right now he looks small somehow. “I promise, it wasn’t you,” he says, looking out the windshield instead of at her. “I’m just… still readjusting from the time travel, and also... you kind of remind me of my sister, and also I... think I might be gay…” His low voice trails off, everything kind of spilling out. It’s like once he started opening up, he couldn’t stop, and now he looks mildly shocked that he’s actually said it all.

It’s hard, she knows, for him to make connections with other people. She counts herself one of the lucky few who get to see this side of him, vulnerable and honest, unguarded. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” she says, trying to be kind, to be gentle, despite her embarrassment. The car suddenly feels stuffy and too constricting. “Come on. It’s a clear night. I want to see the stars.” 

She leads him to the hood of the car and they perch at the edge of it, looking up at the sky. Constellations glitter down at them, untold stories for eons ago. Ororo finds Sirius and tries to pick out some of the other stars, the clusters, the galaxies. Scott’s always been better at knowing the names of these things. She just likes to look. 

For a moment, she’s so caught up in stargazing that she doesn’t notice how Bishop’s reacting. His mouth drops open into an astonished gasp. “My God,” he murmurs, neck craning so he can take in as much of the sky as possible. “There’s… so many. I hadn’t noticed, not yet.”

“It’s not as clear from the mansion,” Ororo explains. “And there aren’t nearly as many as there were in Cairo when I was growing up. It was like there were more stars than sky.”

“Still,” Bishop marvels, staring straight up, his eyes huge as he looks at the sky. “Where I come from…  _ when _ I come from… there are so few stars in the sky. With pollution, you know, all the smog and smoke and ash… This is breathtaking, Ororo.”

She looks at him sideways, still feeling awkward about having tried to kiss him, but glad to see him enjoying something unabashedly. “Tell me about your sister,” she says.

Bishop grins despite himself. “She was…  _ way _ smarter than me,” he starts. “She was awesome. I miss her. She was the youngest commander in Xavier’s Special Enforcers, youngest ever.” He’s usually a man of few words… until you get him talking about something he loves, like X-Men history or art or, evidently, Shard. He talks and talks now, tells her about growing up in the camps, and then on the streets, about his and Shard’s first commander, about the XSE. (He does not mention Fitzroy, and she doesn’t bring him up, either.) 

* * *

“About… the other thing,” Bishop sighs, leaning back with his hands braced against the hood of the car. “I understand if… if this changes your opinion about me, or my status on the team—”

“Lucas,” she says, staring at him. “Of course it doesn’t. I’m upset you think that… what I mean is, there’s nothing  _ wrong _ with being gay. I’ve had my share of lovers from every corner of the gender spectrum.” He looks up, surprised, and she wonders if she’s oversharing. “You’re on a journey right now, discovering yourself,” she says delicately. “And if you are gay, rest assured, you are far from the  _ first _ gay X-Man. No one will judge you poorly.”

Bishop nods, processing all that. “Still,” he says, “I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us.”

“Of course.” 

They stay out looking at the stars for a long time. Then they go home. 

“Well,” Ororo says after they’ve parked the car and gone back inside for the night, “that was a wonderful evening.” It’s late, and the only stirrings in the mansion come from Hank’s lab. “But next time… let’s just go out as friends, alright?”

“Good friends,” Bishop agrees. He turns and heads for his quarters, his footfalls quiet on the cashmere carpet. Thinking of something before he turns the corner, he looks back over his shoulder. “And Ororo— thank you.”

“Of course,” she says, smiling as he walks away. “Goodnight, Bishop.” 


End file.
